Too modern times
by OhMyChaplin
Summary: The little tramp goes into a strange world, in which he knows he must adjust, it's short (like Charlie Chaplin) and rather sweet.


**Too modern times**

_The Shelter – __where a rest from troubles becomes a nightmare. _

The theatre was empty. The little fellow saw the opportunity of shelter. The entrance was cold but it didn't carry the 1930's bitterness which carried constant reminders of the economic trouble. The golden architecture rang out illusions of wealth and prosperity, the little fellow sighed as memories of the riches filled his mind. This lifestyle wasn't fair, the American dream was false, no one was happy nor will they ever be. He felt saddened once again but yet he carried on waddling until he found himself in one of the boxes. The felt seats were smooth on his skin; he lay in the sandman's arms as his eyes eventually closed.

"Hey man, wake up. Gosh the boss will kill me if he finds out about this. C'mon dude!" A greasy young man suddenly came into focus. Startled, the little fellow sprung out of the seat and into the air. He once again glanced at the young man and tipped his hat. The teenager groaned "how on earth did you get in here? What are you ninja?" The little fellow apologised. "Well that ain't good enough, dude. By the looks of it you don't have a job you're at risk of losing." Yet again the little fellow apologised for the inconvenience and asked how the theatre was decorated throughout in just one night. "Like ...I don't know. To be honest it's all the government, you know, always changing things...putting stuff in your mind. I saw it on a film once." The little fellow thanked the young man for the information, despite his suspicious fashion sense he could be speaking the truth - the little fellow lost all trust in the government since he lost everything from his Royce to his mansion. The finer things in life were gone and he was forced to fight for survival constantly. He was at the entrance once again; he stood without movement in wonder and utter confusion. Crowds threw themselves through the theatre all dressed in peculiar ways. The little fellow took off his bowler hat and scratched his head. The little fellow decided to leave the theatre and put the whole thing down to a peculiar event but it is time to move on. He waddled towards the door, confusion built in his face as he approached the door. He couldn't see a handle, he couldn't see how pushing would open the door. He tried not to panic but the more he approached the door the more his heartbeat increased. He held his hands out far away from his chest ready to embrace the door's stubbornness. Slowly the automatic doors pulled away from each other as the little tramp fell through them and landed on his rear on the pavement outside. He began to run, things just became too weird, the embarrassment, the weird fashion trends. Finally back to reality. Then he realised the cars, he stopped running. He stood once again and scratched his head; he raised his arms in a state of confusion.

_The girl – __a helping hand or a critic?_

He'd been on the streets for several hours now; the sun was almost fully raised. So much had changed: the clothes, the cars, the lights, the shops, the food, the hairstyles, and the wealth but yet he still wandered the streets. Finally he came across a little bookshop; it still had the personalities of the style he was familiar with. When he looked through the window it felt normal. The girl inside looked normal too. Her black hair swayed as she read further into a book. His smile widened with every movement she took. He opened the door rather quickly just in case it did it for him. He hadn't quite figured out why he was in the bookshop, did he want to buy a book? No, he had hardly any money to do so. Maybe it was the girl, maybe it was the 1930's layout or maybe it was just for warmth. Either way he was there, smiling, staring, and feeling at home. "Can I help you, sir?" The girl smiled, her eyes slowly drifted from his pleasant smile to his clothes- ragged and torn. She sighed, 'poor fellow' she thought.

He told her that he was fine; a little puzzled maybe but fine.

"Very well, sir, do let me know if you need anything."

And then he thought of something,

"Well I'm here so early because then I can go home earlier tonight, I hear that the weather is going to get really bad" the little fellow nodded and headed towards the stationary section. He rustled in his pockets and got out a few coins which he had found on the street earlier. He waddled towards the counter, the girl smiled; he smiled back with his lovesick eyes. "Is that all, sir?" She lifted her head up and handed over the pencil set he bought.

He shook his head.

"My name is Alida and yours?"

He replied, the smile never left his face.

"What a nice name and what a gentlemen. Do you mind me asking, do you have somewhere to stay tonight?" He shook his head out of embarrassment; slowly he picked up his pencils and tipped his hat, with that he left. 'Strange' Alida thought, she carried on stacking the shelves. The little fellow was sweet and he was a man of little words, his blue eyes sparkled, they were full of hope and love. His hair was unruly and curly, hidden under a fitted bowler hat.

The hours slipped by and it was almost closing time, suddenly a figure appeared at the counter; Alida turned and left the bookshelf alone. "Ooh it's you" she smiled, the little tramp smiled back. "Can I help you" he nodded "the date? Why it's the 29th of August" she politely stated. He insisted on her telling him the year, "okay, erm... Its 2012" he removed his hat, his legs buckled, and he ran his hand through his hair. "Are you alright, sir?" She wrapped her arms around him, he didn't speak a word, he just stared out into nothingness. "Do you have a home?" Alida rubbed his right arm; yet again he shook his head. "Come on" she helped him up, he didn't resist, he just followed. She led him to a moped, a little stunned but he shook his head -he'd been stunned ever since he arrived there. She put her hair in a bun and slipped a red helmet over the top, she lifted her dress up a little bit as she hoped onto the bike. The little fellow held up his baggy trousers as he climbed onto the back. "Are you holding on tight?" The little fellow nodded and held onto his hat as Alida revved and started driving.

_The Storm – __some say a bother but to others it is evidence._

A storm began brewing behind them; Alida drove rapidly over a bump in the road with such force the little tramp almost flew off the bike. He let go of his hat and grabbed onto Alida with both hands. His bowler hat spun off his head and flew into the storm like a frisbee, he looked back thankful that it wasn't him.

Finally they arrived at a basic looking house, to the little tramp it looked like home. She unlocked the door and hurried inside. His curly hair was now matted to his head because of the rain, Alida took off her helmet and her hair fell like she never went outside. The little fellow smiled at her, admiring her. "I'm going to get changed" she smiled and then left the room.

He finally had the chance to calmly investigate these modern times. He waddled over to a little silver box in the corner, he pressed a button. All of sudden music poured out of it, he jumped and ran to the other side of the room. _"Don't, let, go, never give up it's such a wonderful life"_ he edged closer to the box. The noise was deafening however somewhat inspirational. Alida came back down the stairs wearing her skinny jeans and a blouse, this outfit was a nice confusion for him, he went to tip his hat as a way of saying that he approved: he then remember it was no longer with him.

"Woah, is that loud enough for you?"

He held his ears and asked for assistance to turn it down.

She helped him out and then slumped on the sofa. "Where are you from?" Alida rubbed her eyes - it had been a stressful day.

He answered quickly then sat next to her,

"So you're local then?"

He let out a moan and shook his head.

"Don't worry about your hat" she smiled "I'm sure it will turn up again, this world is a strange place full of mysteries"

He then went on to explain his confusing predicament.

"You're funny, I hope you are if not you're not -you're nuts!" she laughed.

He threw himself on the arm of the sofa, he couldn't handle this, and tears filled his eyes. Yet again he brushed it off him. He then told her that he was joking and he'd like to go to bed if that would be okay.

"Sure, it's 9.00 but you must be tired. Your room is the second on the right" she smiled and slouched on the sofa a bit more.

He was soon ready for bed, even a simple room like the bedroom looked surreal. He wriggled his way into bed and once again -he was in the sandman's arms, he wasn't sure how all this had happened; he preferred the idea that things had dramatically changed overnight than what the reality was. His eyelids were getting heavier but his thoughts forced them to open again and again until finally he forced them shut as a way to hide from reality. It was a strange event, it reminded the little fellow of something which he might see in a Buster Keaton film, of cause he hadn't seen many lately because of his poverty but he used to enjoy them. He was most thankful for the way Alida had treated him, he only wished that she was a bit more understanding with his predicament however he knew that would be asking too much. His stomach rumbled, speaking of asking too much he fought his fatigue and got out of bed. The stairs creaked as he tiptoed down them. Alida was there reading some book, he did not care which book – it was the way she read it. The way her black hair swayed with every tiny movement, her eyes – chasing every word. He didn't want to disturb her but he was given no other choice, his stomach rumbled again. He tapped her on the shoulder and apologised for the cheekiness of the matter but he was famished.

"Ooh why didn't you say something? What would you like? I have bacon, do you like bacon?"

He nodded and told her that he hadn't the time to be fussy.

"Bacon it is then"

The meal was the best he'd had since….well a long time ago. He smiled and thanked her; he was defiantly ready for bed now. He told her how he could get used to this, he meant the era but he knew he couldn't express himself fully about his predicament yet again; besides – he needed breakfast.

"Well I don't mind if you stay a little longer, we could get you suited up tomorrow, how long have you had those trousers?"

He assured her, it had been awhile. He couldn't find the words to express his happiness about he plans, he just smiled and skipped about for a while.

"You do make me laugh" she giggled "I didn't think anyone wore 'long johns' anymore – other than my granddad" she carefully folded her washing up ready for ironing tomorrow.

He smiled, and said goodnight and promised her that she will not hear from him again tonight.

"It's quite alright, you're nice company, tell me how old are you?" her looked followed him upstairs.

He stopped on the stairs and turned to face her on the bottom step, he replied with a snap but it was polite.

"43? Wow you're 19 years older than me, you could be my dad!" she said with utter content however it did not feel like a compliment. "Sorry I didn't mean to cause offence" she smiled.

He assured her that he wasn't offended and waddled back to bed.

As he stumbled back into bed, the room looked much friendlier. He felt at home, he felt welcomed too. He smiled and closed his eyes; Alida was a nice girl, sweet like honey and ….and …sleepy….sssssleepy…sssslee…..ssss…sssssir… sir.

_The ending_- or could it be a beginning to yet another story?

"Sir, excuse me sir but you can't be here, no seriously I can't afford to get the can" the young man stood in front of him once again but this time he had reconsidered his outfit. The little fellow looked around, the theatre looked like it should, the little tramp went ahead and asked the young man the date "it's the 29th of August 1932, why do ask you crazy tramp?" The little fellow jumped in the air out of excitement, he then explained to the young man his peculiar dream. "That's one weird dream but snoozing will not get you out of these troubles" the little fellow laughed and burst into song because after all, it's such a wonderful life.

He was soon thrown out of the theatre and he retired to the streets. He then stopped in front of a bookshop he knew too well. He looked inside and sure enough there she was. Her black hair draped itself all the way down her back, her movements were subtle however elegant. He smiled once more. He stepped towards the door and gently pushed it open. The clouds rumbled and his bowler hat fell from the sky and landed in front of his feet. He smiled to himself, put the hat back on his head and waddled towards the counter.


End file.
